


a death in the family

by extremelyquestionable (TechnicalTragedy)



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Mafia AU, Polyamory, Polyderps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/extremelyquestionable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked:<br/>I haven't read an angsty polyderps yet, I'd be up for reading some SIN</p><p>(Mafia AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a death in the family

The day was grey and somber, fitting for a funeral. Four men were lined up in front of a closed casket, the only portal to see what may lay beyond its heavy lid the smiling portrait set up beside it. The shortest of the men scrubbed at his eyes, heavy from the nightlong wake they'd held to keep watch over the Boss. The man with the most scars leaned into the shorter man, providing comfort and something to lean on, should he need it. Though no words were spoken, nothing said to pierce through the stifling silence, gratitude was expressed in two hands joining.

"He was cold," the oldest of them said later, fingers white around the podium, "Just in public, though," he amended. "When we were in private, the Boss was warm, always having a smile or a reassurance to offer. He took care of us, of all his people, and I couldn't have asked for a better friend, a better brother. Wherever you are, Anthony, I hope it's someplace that deserves you."

They watched together as the Boss was lowered into the ground, the dirt covering him until the box wasn't visible anymore. The four men left, shuffling steps that belied their weariness. The youngest drove them home, mostly unfocused, and they all fell into their own beds once they were back at their tomb of a house.

The full effect of Anthony's death rang out over the course of the next week, their cycles broken, their people divided. Two capos, Mikhael and Sullivan, were both vying for control, amassing support and clashing with each other. The four men took hardly any notice, despite being the most senior members, the most obvious to look to for leadership, too busy waging their own wars within the confines of their own home. The Boss could've united them all, would've prevented this from ever happening in the first place. He'd never stood for infighting, had stopped the slow poison at its very root. The leftovers couldn't approve of that, not when Anthony had just been laid to rest and already his grave was being spit on.

Steven, the previous underboss, stood up. Tony "Grizzly", his right hand, stood with him. Steven's back straightened, his green eyes scathing over the assembled people. He'd announced his intentions to take over the mafia, and now what was left was to punish the instigators.

"Mikhael and Sullivan," he said, singling them out by name. "You've been working against me. Against us. We're a family, aren't we?"

The capos refused to meet his eyes.

Steven tutted disapprovingly. "We know what happens to those who go against the Boss, don't we boys?"

"The Boss is dead, Steven, you know, you were there," Sullivan said, scowling.

Mikhael nodded along, "Just because you were his bitch doesn't give-"

"I must have heard you wrong, Mikhael," Steven said, cold steel in his voice. "What I heard, well, it wasn't a very wise thing for someone to say. Most especially you, right now. I'm the Boss now, capo. I hold the power in this family, not you. I am, however, willing to forgive. Swear fealty to me. Accept me as the new Boss, and you can stay in the family as a soldier."

Mikhael stood, fury in his quick, sharp movements. "I'll never pledge myself to some fucking fairy like-"

Steven's eyes went sidelong to Grizzly, who nodded back at him. Within a moment, Mikhael's brain was splattered against the side wall, his spiel stopped without Steven having to raise a finger. Sullivan's wide eyes went from Mikhael to Steven and back again. The new Boss pursed his lips, then turned from the scene. "Him, too," he said, quiet.

The shot resonated through his head and into his dreams that night.

Another week passed, and things in the family were going more smoothly. Steven had assigned new capos from within the ranks of the old crews, picking Adam to lead Mikhael's and Max to lead Sullivan's. Profits were already looking up, and the short-lived rebellion had been squashed in its infant stages. Within the upper ranks, among those living in the Boss's old home, things were more bleak than they had been ever before.

Steven sat at the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the spot in front of the fridge where Anthony used to always stand. He'd never judged Steven for having nightmares, had just held him in his arms and let him shake until he didn't. Anthony was a solid rock for all of them to lean on. He played pranks on them when everything was too serious and the tension was suffocating, he could grin and bear it with the best of them, but he was never a pushover, never let anyone tell him what to do. He exuded power, loved fiercely and was the most protective person Steven ever knew.

Tony came and sat with Steven, and Steven just looked at him for a long time, at the long scars trailing down his cheek, the blooming flower of a bullet wound in his shoulder, the cuts, scabs, scrapes, the milky white eye. "You should be my underboss, Tony," Steven said. "I want to reward your loyalty, and you already have their respect."

The man huffed out a laugh, his fingers drumming against the marble countertop. "I'm good, Boss," he said, his honey-warm voice never failing to put Steven at ease. "By your side's where I belong, even if that puts me in the line of fire. I don't get all scarred up for just anybody, you know."

Steven could read between the lines, had learned to decipher his right hand man long ago. He put his left hand on the counter, palm up, and Tony's fingers laced through his. They lean together, thinking about Anthony, about what they'd lost.

John joined them less than an hour later, Tom trailing behind him, and they came to sit with Tony and Steven, adding their silent support. Their Boss - their brother - was gone, dead, and their tiny family unit was shattered because of it. Their fifth, their beginning and their end and everything else in between, their moorings, their foundation, the heart and soul of the family, ripped from their chests.

"I love you," Steven said. No one was quite sure who he was talking to, if he was referring to those alive or the one who only lived in their minds. Even Steven didn't know.

Later, much later, they collected themselves, dragged themselves to the biggest room, the one that still held the ghost of his scent, and curled up together on the big bed, children seeking each other in the night.

The next day, and the world returned to spinning. Steven made John his underboss, Tom stayed on as the consigliere, and Tony was his right hand. John pulled Renee up through the ranks to be his own right hand.

"We can't do this anymore," Steven said. "We can't be together. We left the family vulnerable for a week, left ourselves weak and open because of our bleeding hearts, and we can't allow that to happen again."

And, much to their chagrin, John and Tom and Tony agreed.

Steven stared outside, hands steepled together as he thought. This city, the one he'd known all his life and stretched as far as he could see, was his. There were runoffs, of course, people who thought themselves to be outside of Steven's sphere of influence. They didn't last long, if they lasted at all. He was the gatekeeper, the jury, judge, and executioner. Everyone had ties to his family, to him.

Without thinking much about it, Steven dismissed Grizzly, sending him to stand outside the door. Steven didn't watch him go, refused himself the learned temptation. He couldn't love his closest confidantes, not the way he wanted to, if he wanted to survive in the city where you were either for or against the family. In another life, maybe they could be together, they could hold each other and be who they were without fear or shame or pain. In the life they had, family was the only thing that mattered. 

Steven placed his hand on the plate-glass window, and when he saw his reflection it looked like Anthony for a split second. Maybe he could make him proud after all.

The sky crashed down around him, and Steven missed with all his might.


End file.
